The Journey

by Lewis Turco

The world is too much with us. Sooner or later 
We have to let it go, and when we do 
Who knows where it will go? We'll need a greater 
Place to inhabit — perhaps a dead volcano 
On Antares or a spinning top 
In a sandstorm that cannot stand to stop 
Blowing dusty souls to Hell and back. 
Somehow we need to get our lives on track 

Again. Or do we? Let the damn thing go. 
We've been alive as long as necessary 
To get a few things done, be young and grow 
Old enough to drop what we've had to carry 
Over the River of Time against its flow 
Into the wilderness of the endless prairie. 

Assumptions

by Lewis Turco

Benny Hill said never to assume, 
Never, never, never to assume
Anything at all, avoid the doom

That follows when you think you know it all,
When there's nothing you don't know at all,
Or so you think — you think that there is small

Chance that you'll be wrong, that you are wise
Beyond all others, for you have been a wise
Guy all your life and can't be otherwise

Than a prophet and a seer, a mage,
A major magus on a pilgrimage
To know it all, a mastermind and sage

Smarter than Benny Hill who thought that he
Was a lesser ASS than U or ME.

Alfred Moskowitz, R.I.P.

by Lewis Turco

When last I visited Alfred and his wife
We spent the evening talking about his art.
Sculpture was his passion, the largest part
Of his endeavor, his creative life.

Rhina is a writer. She and I
Became the best of friends. Her poetry
Shows readers how the heart and mind can fly
Through the Muses' ever-greening tree.

Now Alfred's mind and heart have taken wing
And she is left alone to write her songs —
She feeds them to the wind: it, too, can sing
Even when her heart breaks and belongs

To breezes in the needles and the limbs
Of brooding woodlands that can echo hymns.
 

Dreaming Stories

by Lewis Turco

"I'd rather you avoid nightmares–though your fiction is welcome." Miriam Kotzin, Editor.

I like to feed my nightmares haythorn straw 
That makes their motile lips writhe in disdain
And bridle at the thought of eating claw-

Mottled strands of vine that cause them pain.
They then become steeds of another color
That strain to taint my dreams with the vivid stain

Of sanguinary mood and bloody horror
That give me leave to delve into the dark
Niches and corners of death's corridor

Where wolfhounds howl and flying foxes bark
Along the fictive trail that leads to where
The story wakes and is willing to embark

Upon the ship of words that conjures awe
And makes the thudding heart stick in one's craw.

Smallage

by Lewis Turco

The serpent was a liar. Eve swallowed it,
Core and all, every jot and tittle.
Basically we’ve learned a tiny bit,

But not a lot, about Creation. Little
Did we understand the more we knew,
The more we found we’d just begun to whittle

Away at what there is. We found a few
New laws, and then discovered there are others
Lying low beneath them. What seemed true

Turned out to be but half-truths and Cain’s mother’s
Knowledge did not obviate school, college,
Or hard knocks for his sisters or his brothers

Down the line. It behooves us to acknowledge
We’ll never know immensity, just smallage. 

Po’ Poe

by Lewis Turco

"Who's that pecking at my door?"
"I'm the bird called 'Never More!"
"I'm the poet E. A. Poe;
We pronounce it 'Nevah Mo'
Here below the Mason Dixon."
"I think your accent needs some fixin'."
"Shoo! Begone, you Yankee bird!"
"Okay, I'm gone! I'll leave a turd
For you to recollect me by —
Oh, by the bye, I am a minah,
Not a raven…I'm much finah
Than a morn in Carolina
Or a  nest full of Jim Crow."
"Begone! Get hence!" said Edgar Poe.

Pretty Girl

by Lewis Turco

A Sixtieth Anniversary Song
 
I asked Jack Maier, "Who is that pretty girl
Up there beside the schoolhouse?"  "Stay away
From her!" he said. "That's Mr. Houdlette's daughter!
Her father's fierce and mean — the meanest teacher
At Lincoln Junior High! And every day
He beats on her until she has to hurl."
So I stayed far away as I could get —
Through junior high and high — from Jean Houdlette.
 
And then I joined the navy, saw the world
Aboard a carrier, but never found
A girl as pretty, so when the last wave curled
About my feet I soon was homeward bound
To find the girl that I had never met
In seventh grade, and I am with her yet.

David and the Three Maidens

by Lewis Turco

They were older than they acted, but the three young women were being rather giddy. They had all recently graduated from a famous college in the Adirondacks, and now here they were in Florence, the first stop on the tour of Europe their families had agreed to treat them to as a graduation gift. Britney was dark and tall, Floella was obviously the product of a mixed marriage, medium build, very attractive, and Willa was as blonde as she was daring. "You dare me?" she asked. 

Her friends affirmed vocally and with eagerly nodding heads. They were all standing in the piazza of the Palazzo della Signoria staring at the nude statue of David. "It's not the original by Michelangelo, you know," Willa said. 

Floella nodded. "We know. We don't care." Britney nodded vigorously. "We just want a picture of it."

Willa got a more serious look in her eyes. She glanced about to see if there were any guards around — there didn't seem to be. She wondered if she could reach her objective and hold her ground long enough for the pictures to be taken.

"Oh, come on!" Britney said impatiently. "You're supposed to be the daredevil."

Floella nudged her and Willa elbowed her back.

Brit said to Flo, "I guess she hasn't had enough experience." Flo giggled. "Hah," Willa said and cast her eyes boldly over the statue's beautiful body, lingering on his genitals. She'd never admit it, but in fact she hadn't had a lot of experience. Well, she'd show them.

"Okay, take my iPhone and get a picture for me, too." She handed it to Britney who grinned. Floella snickered. Hesitantly at first, Willa took a step toward the statue and then, more boldly, worked her way through the crowd until she was beside the pedestal. Willa glanced back at her conspirators, hesitated again, then got onto the pedestal and put her right hand around David's genitals. People were looking at her; her friends were aiming and clicking away with their smart phones. Then, suddenly, Willa was stricken to stone when she felt the movement beneath her fingers.

Canto V: The Forest of Humbaba

by Lewis Turco

Gilgamesh   
                 and Enkidu strode
Forth from the grand   
                                  gate of the city,
Enkidu leading    
                         the way from Erech
Toward the forest   
                             of fearsome Humbaba.
They marched many   
                                 leagues until
At last they approached    
                                        the verge of the woodland.
They stood and stared
                                 at the cedar forest,
stunned by the stature
                                    of the spiring boles.
Their eyes searched
                                for a trail through the trees,
for Humbaba’s track –- 
                                  “Here!” cried Enkidu,
“See where the ogre
                                has trampled his way
through the wood
                            toward his mountain
where the gods 
                        and goddesses dwell!”
                                                  Laughter
                                                 and revelry resounded
                                                       in the effulgent air,
                                                  echoed and rebounded
                                                       about the heroic pair!

The cedars grew
                           in groves and rows
casting shadows
                            cool and cloistered.
The forest floor
                        was thickly thorny,
ballukku trees
                        tangled with cedars
that fathered herds 
                                of cedar saplings.
The elder trees
                        seeped sap
that drizzled like rain
                                  and dried to scabs
until true rain
                        washed it away.
Throughout the wood
                                  birds called and cried,
till all was noise, 
                            cacophonies!
A cricket’s call
                        became a chorus,
a mourning dove
                           made subtle moan
until a turtle
                      replied in kind.
At the stork’s call
                            the forest rejoiced;
the francolin’s voice
                                 made the forest sing!
Monkey matrons
                            called their offspring
who replied 
                    with apelet shrieks,
drumming praise
                              before Humbaba.
The cedars’ shadow
                                fell on the King
Instilling terror,
                          Gripping his limbs
and enfeebling him.
                               Gilgamesh felt
Fear at the thought   
                                of the forthcoming fight.
He lay for a day   
                          and then another,
Prone on his pallet.   
                               He did not rise
Till twelve    
                days had passed,
And then he called   
                               His friend Enkidu,
“Comrade, you hate me   
                                      because in Erech
You were afraid   
                          of the coming combat,
Because you said, ‘friend,   
                                         let us not go
Down to the depths  
                                of the Forest of Cedars!’
My arms are weak now,   
                                      hands stricken
With palsy, Enkidu!”

                                  “Shall we be cowards?”   
 Enkidu replied.
                          “You shall surpass
All those who battle.   
                                 You are cunning
And shrewd in the fray.   
                                      Be brave and resist
Both trembling and weakness.   
                                                Have no fear
Of Death, nor terror   
                                 of what may come.
You have led the way   
                                   here from Erech
And have not flinched   
                                   in duty or friendship.
You have guarded me   
                                   and I will guard you.
Let it be so!”   
                     Enkidu said
unto his sovereign,
                               “Have no fear!
                                                           Let us raise
                             our pennants and banners high
                                       and sing boldly, in praise
                             of honor, our battle-cry!
                                     These are our city’s ways!”

Gilgamesh replied,
                                “Indeed, my friend.
“Why to we tremble 
                               here like weaklings,
We who strode 
                        over mountains?”

Entu the treeherd    
                             stood sentinel
At the sylvan    
                       entranceway.
Enkidu lifted    
                      his eyes and spoke
Unto the guardian   
                              who seemed
Himself a cedar:   
                           “Sentinel of the Forest,
For forty leagues   
                           I have admired
This timberland   
                          until I sighted
The towering cedar.   
                                The wood has no peer.
Six gar your height,   
                                two gar your breadth.
Your branches pivot   
                                 and interlock –
They were fashioned   
                                  in the city of Nippur!
If I had known   
                         that such was your grandeur
I might have sensed   
                                trouble no matter
Wherever we went!”   
                                Enkidu arose
And the heroes stood   
                                   staring abroad
At the height of the cedars,   
                                            scanned the avenue
Past Entu   
                  into the wood where
Humbaba dwelt.   
                           A path appeared,
Straight as a spear.   
                                Its passage was clear.
They could see in the distance   
                                                the Mount of the Cedar,
Home of Immortals,   
                                the shrine of Irnini,
The cedars’ pride,   
                              raised on the mountain.
The shade was fair,   
                                full of delight.
Bushes spread there   
                                  with the incense of cedar.

Enkidu said,    
                      “While I lay ill
I had a dream   
                        in which I saw
The two of us    
                       standing together
High on a peak   
                         and the peak crumbled
Beneath our feet.   
                             We were left standing
Alone in a desert.   
                             The mountain is
Evil Humbaba.   
                         We’ shall confront him
And throw down his carcass,   
                                               leaving his corpse
Abased at our feet   
                             upon the morrow.”

The morrow dawned   
                                 and they broke their fast,
Eating a morsel,   
                           then hollowed a pit
In the warm sunlight.   
                                    Enkidu stood
Above it and poured   
                                 a meal for the Mountain.
Then a chill wind blew,   
                                     the breath of Humbaba;
It passed over   
                        the King and caused
Him to cower and sway   
                                              like corn in a field.
Enkidu bent
                     to grasp and support
The King’s hips.   
                            The firmament roared,
Poured out lightning.   
                                  Earth resounded,
Quaking beneath them.   
                                      Smoke rose
Out of the mountain   
                                  dimming the day.
Flames flew   
                            from the throat of the cone
And molten stone   
                             flowed down its sides
As it gorged itself,   
                             the fires faded
And the hot brands   
                                turned to ash
                                                      as they fell glowing,
                                hastened by the breeze 
                                     like seeds of lightning flowing
                                into the forest of trees
                                     where fires began growing.

Gilgamesh took   
                          his great axe
And stepped forward,  
                                   the first to set
Foot upon   
                  the forest path,
And as he began   
                            to pass Entu,
The treeherd reached   
                                   down with his limbs
From above,   
                             grasped the King,
And raised him into   
                                 a tangle of branches,
Holding him tightly.  
                                 The sudden attack
Took Gilgamesh   
                           unawares.
The King gasped   
                             and dropped his axe
From a great height.   
                                 It fell at the feet
Of Enkidu the Hero   
                                who, unthinking,
Picked it up   
                    and swung it mightily
Against the trunk   
                             of the cedar monster.

The sharp blade   
                           sliced through

The massive bole   
                            and Entu dropped
Gilgamesh   
                  before itself 
Fell to the earth.   
                           The King also
Plummeted, howling   
                                 with pain, upon
The forest floor, 
                          his bones broken.

Enkidu lifted   
                       his arms aloft
To Shamash,   
                       God of the Sun,
And cried aloud,   
                            “Lo, on that day
In Erech the City,   
                              before we left,
I heard you swear   
                              an oath to the King
That you would aid   
                                this great assault 
On the Forest of Cedars.”   

                                        Shamash hearkened
And raised mighty   
                               winds against
The ogre Humbaba,   
                                 a wind from the North,
A wind from the South —   
                                        yea, a tempest,
A wind of  Evil,    
                         from East and West –
Eight winds in all:   
                              a chill wind, 
A hot wind,   
                    a whirlwind spinning
Which seized Humbaba   
                                       before and behind,
That he might go   
                                neither forward nor backward.

Humbaba surrendered,   
                                      whereupon
He spoke to the King   
                                 but not to Enkidu,
“O Gilgamesh,   
                        I pray you stay
Your hand and be   
                              my master now,
And I will be   
                     your own vassal.
Disregard my threats   
                                   against you,
For I will lay down   
                               all weapons before you.”

Enkidu said   
                     to his twin and comrade,
“Pay no attention   
                             to these lying oaths
Humbaba spreads    
                             before us here.
You dare not accept   
                                 his specious offer.
Humbaba must not   
                                 remain alive.”
Before the King   
                         could quickly reply
Enkidu lifted   
                        his monstrous axe
And with one blow   
                                      cut off the head

Of the horrid ogre.  
                                       It rolled upon
                                                             the ground, one eye staring
                                                into the sky, the other
                                         open and balefully glaring
                                                into Earth the Mother
                                      with neither sight nor caring.

 
 
 
 
 


Note from Lewis Turco:
After my version of the epic appeared in book form a lost portion of the canto in my book titled “The Forest of Humbaba” was translated and published on-line in October of 2015 by Elizabeth Palermo, Associate Editor of Livescience in an essay titled “Lost ‘Epic of Gilgamesh’ Verse Depicts Cacophonous Abode of Gods” (www.livescience.com/52372-new-tablet-gilgamesh-epic.html). I then turned the translation of the new material into Anglo-Saxon prosody and revised my Humbaba canto by inserting my new material. This required some revisions elsewhere in the text, which I also carried out. The version of “The Forest of Humbaba” included here is the revised version. Here is my rewritten version of Humbaba.